


Easter & Other Things

by Davechicken



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Easter, Grumpy Sneks, M/M, Religious Content, Secular Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23493079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Crowley is grumpy. Aziraphale is jolly. Eggs are eaten. (But not onscreen.)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 45





	Easter & Other Things

It was the first Easter that Crowley had not - er - been pretending he didn’t live pretty much in the bookshop, and sleep at the flat. Which meant he was around more, at holidays, and couldn’t easily escape until the nonsense was over.

Some things were easier to deal with than others. The odd day, or two. Christmas of course he could palate because the commercialisation had become so huge, and the fights over the latest toys or turkeys… demons could easily explain away that. 

But this one was different. It started early, yes, but there wasn’t a big family fight brewing, or a bunch of Hallmark movies to mock, just…

“Look,” he said, gesturing with a drink he didn’t need, but also did. “I just - I don’t get it, okay.”

“Alright, so if you ask, maybe I can--”

“No.” He peered over his glasses. “I _get_ it, I just don’t… **get** it, get it.”

Aziraphale finished putting the tiny, fuzzy yellow chicks on the small section of the window. He had no Easter display of books, or even any reason to want more people to come into the shop, so it was either an affectation or a vanity. 

“It’s bright. And cheery. And it celebrates rebirth.”

“It celebrates cavities and sugar comas,” the demon countered. “Don’t remember any fluffy bunnies shitting eggs, or chirping chicks at Golgotha.”

“No.”

“So why are you doing it? It’s all… Pagan food festival. Might as well give it some other bloody name or just admit you like chocolate that costs more for the same quantity.”

“Well.” Aziraphale’s hands folded, over his tummy. “The chocolate is nice, yes. But it’s the spirit of it. And - before you start - it’s… metaphorical. Symbolic. I’m sure no one truly wants to consume little chocolate effigies of the Lord complete with stigmata.”

“...dunno. Kids eat some weird shit.”

“...true. But that’s a little sad. And the Almighty loves all creatures, and all the growth and rebirth and renewal every year is--”

“--is an attempt to cash in on some other shit and eat a lot.”

Crowley knew he was being obstructive and obnoxious, but so what? Kind of his forte. And it bugged him, okay. 

“It means what you want it to mean.” Aziraphale’s kindly face was the sort of kindly that said ‘this is not a good idea’. “And I rather like it.”

“Then,” Crowley continued, as he was never one to see a dignified exit and not stick two fingers up at it, “...then there’s the whole Lent and abstinence shit.”

“Jesus fasted--”

“Jesus had to wash donkey shit off his feet, but we don’t do _that_.”

“Not literally. But it’s not about… it’s about…” The angel sighed. “It’s about… what it means to you. About… making a sacrifice. Being more aware of the world, and your gratitude for it. It’s… about becoming closer to… everything.”

“By giving up booze.”

“Or other things.”

“Nice things.”

“You don’t sacrifice things you don’t want. That’s hardly a sacrifice at all.”

Crowley had never understood the need to sacrifice anything. Sheep, cows, firstborns, booze, sex, chocolate… if a thing was good, and worth having, why did you bloody well have to prove it by not having it? Nonsense. All of it. Nonsense. He harrumphed, and pushed his butt further into the couch, sending his legs sliding yet more off of it. 

“It makes us happy to do it. You appreciate it, more. And you don’t take it for granted.” The irritation had faded, now, as Aziraphale walked over to brush his fingers through Crowley’s hair. “You don’t need to understand, just… accept that others want to.”

“Dangerous territory, is acceptance. Lots of bad examples to prove why you shouldn’t.”

“And even more examples of why sweeping generalities are more dangerous, still.” Aziraphale kissed his temple, and then stood back upright. 

Ugh. Fine. Whatever. He knew he was being ornery and relying on rhetorical trickery right now, rather than actually trying to get to the bottom of things. Not that he wanted to get to the bottom of things. He just wanted this holiday to be over, so he got his angel back to himself, properly. 

Maybe he’d turn into a snake and eat all the little chicks, just to spite him. Or pretend he had. Or--

“There are ducklings, you know.”

Crowley jumped, and felt guilty for the internal threats to plastic birds’ lives. “Yeah?”

“And cygnets. On the lake.”

“Good place for them to be.”

“I should like to go feed some. I’d appreciate your company, if you are not busy?”

He knew it was a ploy. Show him tiny baby creatures and remind him of the miracle of life and blah blah. It was low. Very, very low.

But they were, really, very cute. 

“Fine,” he said, and threw his legs to the ground. “Only because you’re not supposed to feed them bread.”

“Of course, dear.”

Not that it ever hurt the ones they fed. And it wasn’t his fault that they had huge eyes and ridiculous feet and splashed so much. Ugh. Spring. 

He’d teach them to shit on power-walkers and people who put their dogs in strollers. That would balance it out. He was at the door before the angel, looking bored to cover feeling anything but. 

“Get a move on, then.” 

“Absolutely, my dear!”

**Author's Note:**

> 


End file.
